


A Sleek, Steel Box

by Kahvi



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: Years after his last adventure with Daneel, Elijah Baley is feeling increasingly old and irrelevant. An unexpected delivery of a Spacer device has him scratching his head... but it has a surprise in store for him.
Relationships: Elijah Baley/R. Daneel Olivaw
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Sleek, Steel Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [docholliday18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/docholliday18/gifts).



It was one thing to feel old, outdated and replaceable, all familiar feelings to Elijah Baley. However, the gadget currently on his work table - a new addition to his C7-rated home - made him feel downright  _ inconsequential  _ . This thin box, little more than a screen with a few buttons below it, was so far beyond his ken that he could not begin to imagine how to use it, yet it was probably a commonplace communications device on the Outer Worlds, more prevalent and popular than telephones. Lije glared at it.

"Well, I opened you up. For all the good it will do me."

He had expected some sort of instructions to come with the box, but in hindsight, why would there be? Something as simple and ordinary as a lamp or a bookfilm reader wouldn't come with instructions.

"So simple," Lije muttered, "a baby could use it."

A Spacer baby, perhaps. For all he knew, this was a simplified model of whatever it was. Either way, Lije could see no obvious way to turn it on or off. Still, he owed it to the Commissioner to give it a go; managing to get it working would not only be a show of Earth fortitude, but a sign of goodwill, if it truly was a communications device. Lije leaned forward in his chair, chin resting on his hands.

* * *

The thing had arrived by courier early this morning, just after breakfast, which Lije had enjoyed in the privacy of his own home. A rare luxury, especially now that Jessie had more or less moved out, her work leftovers a thing of the past, but one he was technically allowed as often as he wished. It was just not usually political to flaunt ones social privilege. It had been a robot, of course; Earth make, awkward and eternally smiling.

"Package for you, Plainclothesman Baley!"

"Yeah?" It was common vernacular to call these robots 'boy', but lately Lije had found himself ill at ease with the term. These days, he tried his best to avoid talking to them at all, by any means possible. But now, here was one on his doorstep, hands outstretched. In those plastic-clad metal hands sat a good-sized package, wrapped in the silvery foil of interplanetary goods.

Lije reached for it, but the robot pulled it back. A few years ago, Lije might have glared, or asked what the big idea was, but that was an exercise in frustration and futility. The robot had been told to perform a series of tasks, and would not pause or relent until these tasks had been completed. The only thing that could make it fail to obey an order was if its own existence, or worse, a human life, was at risk. Such were the Three Laws of Robotics, hardwired into every positronic brain: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. 

"I need to see identification, Plainclothesman Baley!”

"Yeah," Lije muttered, "sure." He did not say that the robot had clearly already recognized him, or it would not have addressed him. Any City-owned robot would have been provided with a visual of all City residents, as well as names and identifying features. Instead, he pulled out his C7-card and held it up for the robot to scan with the sensor embedded in its eyes.

"Thank you, Plainclothesman Baley!" When Lije reached for the package again, the robot let go. It weighed a lot less than it looked; barely as much as a light piece of cloth. Lije found he had been staring at it for so long that he'd forgotten to wave away the courier, but by the time he looked up, the robot was gone.

There was no return address, Lije noted as he closed the door, and put the silvery bundle down on his worktable. The wrapping was tight, but fell away when he pulled at it in a certain direction, as he discovered after some experimentation. And inside was... well. This sleek, steel box.

* * *

"Have you tried pushing the buttons," Ben asked, gulping down his coffee.

"Of course I tried pushing the buttons!" Lije should never have told him about the damn thing. He hadn't meant to, but like an idiot he'd forgotten to pack it away when Ben had come over for his weekly visit. "They don't do anything."

"Maybe it's battery operated?"

"There's no charging plate. I checked."

"It might be some Spacer battery that doesn't need charging."

"Well, if it were, the buttons would work, wouldn't they!"

Ben took his cup over to the recycler, frowning. "I don't know, dad. It's a Spacer thing. Maybe we're not meant to be able to get it working. Who cares, anyway; we should be making our own stuff."

"Whoever sent it to me, cares." The boy didn't get it. He was out there changing the world, while Lije was stuck in the past.

"Come on, dad. Don't lose sleep over it. If it's important, they'll send you instructions." He patted Lije affectionately on the back. "I've got to get back to the crops; we got a bunch of new volunteers yesterday."

Lije caught his hand, holding it a little too tightly, a little too long. "Yeah. I'm sure you're right." He let go.

The lights dimmed when Ben left, returning to the standard setting, and maybe that was why, or maybe Lije had just been too preoccupied to notice before, but that's when he saw the little green light at the edge of the box. Blinking. 

* * *

For reasons he could not satisfactorily explain to himself, Lije walked straight into his little private personal, and freshened up before approaching the box again. Hair, face and body clean, clothes cleansed, he stepped back out and side-eyed that blinking light. Was it his imagination, or was it blinking faster, now? Ljie stepped up to it, took a deep breath, and pressed the largest of the three buttons.

Immediately, the entire face of the box lit up, evidently some sort of screen. Lije gasped. Screens that flat were for movie theaters; for announcement boards in travel hubs. The picture showed a white, or at least very bright room, but before Lije could begin to speculate about where it might be, a bronzed, familiar face appeared, sending him reeling backwards.

"No," Lije said. It couldn't be. From this angle, the screen was no longer visible, just a bright sliver of something moving. Jehoshaphat!  _ Moving _ . Could it be...

Lije slowly walked back, forcing himself to look down at the screen fully. "Daneel," he choked.

"Hello, friend Elijah." 

* * *

"Explain it to me again," Lije said, trying to ignore the ache in his lower back; this chair had not been made to be sat in for long. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. "How this is possible. How can I have a conversation with you when you're lightyears away, on another planet?"

"Not another planet," Daneel corrected him. "A ship. I am currently on board the X4739-Zeta, traveling from Aurora." 

"X4739-Zeta," Lije grumbled. "Do Spacers not name their ships?" 

"Some do," Daneel replied, and it occurred to Lije that he had not pointed out that X4739-Zeta  _ was  _ a name, as he might have, before. Was he getting better at... He struggled for a word, conversing? "But this is a Solarian ship, and follows their naming conceptions." 

"I see." So Daneel was on his way to Solaria. Why? "But that does not explain how we can communicate." 

"The device through which we are now conversing, makes use of an experimental method by which the ship's drive is used to enhance the speed of the sub-etheric signal..."

"Faster than light communication?" He knew that much. Little though it was.

"Indeed. This method allows for near-instantaneous transmission, even of high quality video signals such as this one."

"Fascinating," Lije said. Daneel looked the same as always, which was to say, he looked like a perfect specimen of the human race to which he did not belong. Or, not the human race; a specific subset thereof. Daneel looked like the ideal Spacer; bronzed skin, red hair, and eyes... well, now. There was a change. "Your eyes are different."

"You noticed." A human being might have smiled, but Daneel did not do so easily. "Yes. I had to replace parts of the retinas; the material from which they were manufactured was discovered to be prone to stress fractures. I took the opportunity to change the hue."

"Why?" Robots did not have preferences.

"I seek to improve myself. I thought the shade... pleasing."

It was. The pale green brought contrast to Daneel's features, highlighting how striking they were. "Well," Lije said, his lips dry. "I expect you didn't go to all this trouble in order to talk about how pretty your eyes are."

"I did not. Though I am pleased that you find them pretty."

"I didn't-"

"A joke. I am trying to get better at them."

Lije foced a smile. "Keep working on it. Why did you contact me?"

"Because," Daneel said, eyebrows raised a little, "I wanted to see you."

"You're trying to tell me, you spent all this time and effort-" an assumption, but surely it could not have been easy to send an experimental communications device to Earth, "just because you wanted to talk to me?"

"See you," Daneel corrected him again. "It would have been easier to arrange for a voice-only transmission."

"See me," Lije repeated, dumbfounded. There was the literal sense of the word, and then there was the other; to  _ meet _ . Did Daneel miss his company, or just his face? Well no, of course he missed neither. People missed one another, robots did not. 

"Are you not pleased to see me?"

"Daneel, I'm thrilled. I consider you a close friend, you know that." Had Daneel missed the part where Lije nearly knocked himself out against the wall, just from the shock of seeing him? "I was very happy to see your face again." And hear his voice. His unique mannerisms. "It just seems rather-” frivolous? Pointless? “Extravagant."

"I am afforded quite a bit of both freedom and resources."

"And you chose to spend them on... me?"

"Yes."

Well. Lije shook his head. 

"Is something wrong, Elijah?" Daneel leaned in, frowning.

"No. Nothing at all."  _ Jehoshaphat  _ .

* * *

It was past midnight when Daneel suddenly announced that the ship was entering its night cycle, and that he would have to end communications, as he was needed elsewhere. They had been talking for hours; Daneel updating him on Auroran news, Lije telling him what little was new here on Earth. They had discussed politics, recent literature, and Daneel had enquired about Jessie and Ben. Lije had tried to be as forthright as possible about it all; it was easy to forget that Daneel did not have the finer feeling of an Earthman, and sometimes spoke too freely of things that would normally go unsaid. 

"Well," Lije stretched, pushing down a growing feeling of desperation. "It's been wonderful to catch up. I'd say I don't expect to see you again, but I've said that before, and here we are."

"If you wish, we can speak again tomorrow."

Lije sat back up. He blinked. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, by ship's time. In eight point oh four hours. The device will function perfectly until the ship has arrived, and entered into a steady orbit. At this point, the secondary engines are engaged, and enhanced communication is no longer possible."

"You don't say! And how long is the journey?"

"Two days in total."

"So we have another day?"

"Yes, if you wish to continue our conversations."

"Yes," Lije said, a little too quickly. "That is to say, I'd enjoy that very much." Another day! Several hours more with Daneel. A gift not to be taken lightly. He looked down at the screen. Unlike a telephone, there was no clearly marked off button or handle, no obvious way to cut contact. "Uh, should I press anything, or..."

"The device will remain active. The camera and speaker are on at all times; it is a simplified version of what may be produced in future. As I mentioned, it is an experimental form of technology."

Lije nodded. "Right. So I don't have to turn anything off."

"I will see to everything. Good night, friend Elijah."

"Good night." The screen grew dark.

* * *

Taking the communicator - as Lije had taken to calling it in his head - into the bedroom seemed obscene, somehow. It wasn't quite like talking in a personal, but entering someone's bedroom was a highly intimate act, something only family or very close friends would even consider. And yet.. what if Daneel called in the middle of the night? Or early in the morning? What if he were calling to say there would be no more conversations, that he had arrived early? Lije couldn't take that risk.

He placed the box on the bedside table, upright, so he could see the light from anywhere in the room, and quickly undressed. Slipping under the sheets, he kept an eye on that dark, sleek surface. Daneel always had this effect on him; the joy of seeing a good friend, yes, but more than that. The promise, perhaps, of a different life. Being allowed to forget, if only for a short time, that he was getting old and frail; that he was limited by space and culture and context. When Daneel was here, everything seemed possible.

The bed was too big for one person, and should have been marked for recycling when the separation had been filed, and yet had not been. There was, perhaps, the unspoken idea that he could invite others to join him. Extramarital sexual relations were frowned upon, but they existed, and apparently the City itself saw the value in them. For a Plainclothesman, it was easy to guess their motivations; frustrated citizens were a hotbed for civil unrest. For Lije, however, the pain of the absence in his life was still too fresh, too raw, and so the only thing he brought to this bed was his own thoughts. And sometimes, shamefully, a hand, taking himself to a dull, quiet pleasure.

But not tonight. In what felt like a very real way, Daneel was watching. 

* * *

The call did not come in the middle of the night. Nor in the early morning hours. In fact, by the time Lije had gotten his first cup of very necessary morning coffee, he had begun to worry that the communicator had stopped working. Thankfully, it was the weekend - had Daneel factored this in? Otherwise, he would have had to face the problem of taking the box with him to work unnoticed. Even with his new, private C7 office, that would have been impossible. He caught himself pacing in front of the thing, which had been placed, again, on his work table, glancing at his watch every five minutes. When the light finally started blinking again, he practically ran to press the button next to it.

"Daneel," Lije grinned, before the other had time to greet him.

"Friend Elijah. I hope I am not disturbing you too early in the morning."

"Not at all!" Lije pulled out his uncomfortable chair, sitting down with his third cup. "I was just about to have some coffee."

"Ah, yes. You mentioned that your new privileges afforded you an in-room coffee maker."

"A much improved one." He took another bracing sip. "But let's not waste what little time we have on beverage talk. Speaking of which," he glanced at his watch again, "how much time  _ do  _ we have?"

"This is what I wanted to discuss, friend Elijah. We will have just half an hour."

"Oh." Lije's face fell. "I see."

"At which point, we will enter a stable orbit, and this device will cease to function."

"Yes, like you said." The answer came out terse. Half an hour. Years of nothing, then one evening and half an hour over a video phone. It wasn't  _ fair _ .

"Is anything the matter-"

"No," Ljie waved the concern away. Knowing he was hurt or upset would only cause Daneel undue pain. Human discomfort played at his First Law potential. "Everything is fine. So, tell me, how's Fastolfe these days?"

* * *

"Friend Elijah," Daneel said, after a time - and Lije did not particularly want to know how long a time. Better to enjoy this while he could, then rip it away like a band-aid. "There is something I wish to ask you about, but I am concerned it might break with Earth custom."

"Go ahead." It hardly mattered, between the two of them.

"I was sorry to hear of your estrangement from Jessie." Lije nodded. They had spoken of it, briefly. He did not particularly care to revisit the topic. "However, I notice you still refer to her as your wife. Have I misunderstood the meaning of that term?"

"Probably not." Daneel was a robot. He didn't know any better. "She still is my wife, technically speaking. Were Jessie and I to divorce, she would lose her C7 rating."

"I see," Daneel appeared to think. "But she no longer lives with you?"

"No," he swallowed the ache. "She does not. She's staying with friends while we sort this all out. In some cases, it is possible to negotiate a continued rating for a former spouse." Or so the office lawyer told him. It was all too much to think about.

"I am sorry," Daneel interrupted his train of thoughts, "if the subject is an uncomfortable one. It is just that I noticed your bed still had room for more than one person."

"They may yet reclaim it," Lije began, then hesitated. "Hold on. How do you know what my bed..." _ The device will remain active. The camera and speaker are on at all times.  _ "Daneel," Lije said, quietly, "did you watch the camera footage from last night?"

"Yes." Daneel tilted his head, slightly. "I am sorry. Should I not have?"

"Uh." Thank heavens he hadn't actually... well... "No," Lije managed. "That's fine.

"The reason I-" Daneel glanced away from the screen. "Friend Elijah, I am being informed that we are entering orbit. There is not much time."

Dammit. Lije clutched his coffee cup. This was it. A few moments, and Daneel would be gone again. If - when - they met again, Lije would be an even older, more insignificant man. It might be too late then, for all the things unspoken, everything that even now he could not name even to himself. All he had was this moment. "Daneel, I just wanted to say-"

But the screen grew blank. 

* * *

  
  


The news scrolled lazily across his paper, but Lije paid little attention. He should be getting out and socializing. There were quotas there, too, and demands from his doctor that he meet them. Across the room, the box lay dead, a useless husk, now. He should bring it to work, let them hand it over to someone who could pull it apart and tear out the insides to see what made it tick. It would mean one useful thing had come out of all this.

An hour later, he was still there. The scroll had long since stopped, though he could remember none of the stories. Not even the headlines. "Dammit," he sighed, pushing his uneaten breakfast away. It took the doorbell two chimes before he registered it, and groaned. Jessie. She was due back today, and he'd forgotten. He couldn't even keep his days straight. "Be right there," he yelled, pointlessly. The walls were all perfectly sound-proof. They had to be; twenty thousand people lived in this complex.

Yes, back to normal. To scheduled visits and busy workdays and empty weekends. He had to let go of that deep, pulsing  _ ache  _ that would not leave him. The unnamed hunger that grabbed hold of him every time he saw Daneel’s face, and stuck in his bones months after. To have such a short, sharp shock to the system, and then be left, utterly alone? 

The door chimed again, and Lije hurried over. To his great dismay, he had to wipe his eyes before opening.  _ Be a man, Baley.  _ Eat your regrets, if you can't stomach breakfast. With a deep breath, he touched the contact. And stumbled back.

"Hello, friend Elijah."

"But..." he fell into the chair behind him. "How... you're on Solaria!"

"My ship was Solarian. I was headed to Earth." He stood just outside, tall and unsmiling and perfect. Touchable. Tangible. "May I come inside?"

Lije jumped to his feet, pulled him in by his ridiculous lapels - Spacer fashion changed faster than some people's eyeballs, kicked the door closed, and kissed him.


End file.
